Request

This is a work of fiction. Names, character, places, and incidents are products of the author?s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. This is by no means a reflection on a certain member of this forum (author coughs, sounds strikingly like a name). You hear that? Purely coincidence.

Jack lowers himself into his swively office chair. It squeaks as he adjusts himself for optimal gaming comfort. His monitor is casting a green glow on his brother?s computer, as the screen signals his entry into his favored game. A computer positioned on our folding card table conjures up a matching screen.

?You ready?? Jack asks his brother. Their backs are two feet apart, their headsets are secured, and the mikes are poised for battle.

?Yep,? Duke drawls without enthusiasm. A desert landscape appears on their monitors, auditory clicks signaling their weapons purchases. ?We?re still going to play World of Warcraft after this, right??

Jack sighs. ?Wouldn?t want you to miss leveling up your undead elvish mage or whatever.? He shakes his head, a smirk curving his lips. ?Nerd.? Dozens of electronics blink and hum around his desk, few I can name. Various items, determined as useless for gaming, have been discarded into a cheap storage container off to the side. Jack?s screen bobs with his character. ?They?re going A!? he shouts into the mike. His character slumps to the ground as a voice chants ?Terrorists win.?

?Idiots! I hate this stupid game.? The word ?useless? breathes from his mouth.

I turn to Duke?s girlfriend, and roll my eyes. She shrugs her shoulders. We pretend interest for a few minutes, but the running around and shooting fails to thrill.

?Ice cream?? I suggest to Duke?s girlfriend. Her eyes light up with the thought of freedom. I flick the living room lights on to slip on a jacket and shoes.

Jack?s character slumps to the ground again; he glances at me. ?Light.? His hand turns off an imaginary switch. I flick it back off , raising annoyed brows as I slip my shoes on in the monitors? glow.

Jack returns to his game, his forehead furrowing in distress. ?Duke, where?d you go?? Duke?s monitor is showing a very different scene than Jack?s. ?Get back on.?

Duke hushes him, ?Not right now, I?m starting an instance.?

?Babe, we?re going,? I announce before throwing the door aside and inviting in a shower of yellow porch light. He gives no acknowledgement, uttering abbreviated expletives into the mike. I climb into the driver?s seat, wondering how long before they notice we?ve left, or if they even will.

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